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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28770711">Apocalypse and You | Dramione</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixth_senses/pseuds/sixth_senses'>sixth_senses</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, HarryPotter - Freeform, Post-Second War with Voldemort, PostWar, Sad, dracomalfoy - Freeform, dramione - Freeform, shortstory, voldywins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:02:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,322</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28770711</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixth_senses/pseuds/sixth_senses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione told herself to not fall in love during the apocalypse.<br/>-<br/>Dramione post-war fic. (COMPLETED)<br/>Mention of death.<br/>18+</p><p>ALSO AVAILABLE TO READ ON MY WATTPAD (sixth_senses)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>128</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Disclaimer.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b> <em>YOU CAN READ THIS BOOK OVER ON MY WATTPAD HERE: <strong>&lt;a href="<a href="https://www.wattpad.com/993692027-apocalypse-and-you-dramione-disclaimer%EF%BF%BC">url</a>"&gt;Apocalypse and you&lt;/a&gt;</strong></em></b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>THIS BOOK WAS INSPIRED BY THE SONG APOCALYPSE BY CIGARETTE'S AFTER SEX. I SUGGEST YOU READ THAT TO GET THE VIBE. </em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Hi, thank you for choosing to read this story.</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>I want to first of all note that this story will include themes of violence and death. Nothing too heavy, but if you are easily triggered by these things i suggest you don't read this.</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em> <span class="u">I also want to state I have posted this story on another ao3 account in the past, but with different characters in a different fandom. When reading this story again in my notes i knew that I would be much better as a Dramione fic so I have decided to post it here for you to enjoy. If you want to read the original story, my other ao3 is @ultncts </span> </em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Other than that. Enjoy.</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Please leave comments throughout your reading. I really enjoy reading them.</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>my tiktok is @sixth_senses where i regularly post videos and things regarding my writing. Come be friends!</em> </b>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. June 22nd, 2001.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <em>22 June 2001.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Good Morning Wizards and Witches of the United Kingdom.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Today is the 22nd Of June, 2001.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Following the Dark Lords Triumph over the Wizarding world three years ago on May 2nd 1998, The Dark Lord has finally decided on his route for a powerful and substantial wizarding community.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Today, On June 22nd, The Dark Lord will cast an Obliviation spell over half of the Wizarding population.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Wizards who are chosen to be Obliviated will be of those The Dark Lord believes are no longer worthy of magic. </em>
  </b>
  <br/>
  <b>
    <em>They will not remember their magical abilities in anyway shape or form or any </em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>
      <span class="u">memories</span>
    </em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em> that include the use of spells, hexes, jinxes, charms or curses.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>They will be made to believe magic is a fairytale.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>This is one step closer to The Dark Lords' ultimate wish; That Muggles will cease to exist in the coming years.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Today, the muggle apocalypse begins.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>— Rita Skeeta, The Daily Prophet.</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. November 3rd, 2002.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <em>3rd November, 2002.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>The sound of another helicopter hitting the water occupying the Thames echoed through the street, making each and every wall around Hermione shake and shiver.</p><p>It was the second one in the past twenty-five hours, <em>another life gone</em>.</p><p>Hermione reluctantly pushed the sound of bitter drowning to the back of her mind and proceeded to double-check that the window was locked tight, before making her way back into the bathroom, locking the door tightly behind herself and flicking the switches to plunge herself into safe darkness.</p><p>The bathtub was her bed for the night. Her body was curled in half, her arms hugging the navy sweatshirt against her chest.</p><p>It had been worn by a friend. Before all of this happened.</p><p>Though she couldn't quite remember which friend occupied the item of clothing.</p><p>She was scared. She wanted to crumble.</p><p>She didn't remember what time she woke up, yet she was brought to life by the familiar sound of the wired siren, blaring, ringing, filling her eardrums until she wanted to scream.</p><p>Though she didn't, screaming was <em>forbidden</em>. She could not be found, because then she would be taken away, to one of the camps, to one of the hospitals, or to the graveyard.</p><p>When Hermione found the courage to peel herself from the security of the bathtub, she pulled her feet to the kitchen, paying no attention to the pair of dusty glasses that sit on the counter.</p><p>She couldn't look at them. She couldn't remind herself of the before.</p><p>Instead, she poured herself a small bowl of cereal, only small, because she was running low on milk and she was too frightened to try and make her way to the store during this time of day. It was too early, too manic, she didn't want to be caught by the patrols, not <em>yet</em>, anyway.</p><p>She ate the food quickly. Her hands were shaking, the spoon quivering when she pressed it against her lips.</p><p>It was only morning, but she was ready to go back into the bathroom and hide her head with her hands all day, to block out the sounds of the screams outside.</p><p>But she can't. Something strange had happened. A knock on her front door.</p><p>Daydreaming had become a fickle task in Hermione's mind. She daydreamed too much. Sometimes it consumed her senses and told her it was reality.</p><p>She couldn't decide if this was one of those moments. Was someone really knocking at her door? Or had her mind tricked her into believing as much?</p><p><em>This certainly cannot be happening</em>, Hermione thought, quickly dropping her spoon and scrunching herself into a ball behind the kitchen counter with her head in her knees.</p><p>By then Hermione was crying. Her body had begun to tremble.</p><p><em>I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to die</em>.</p><p>Someone knocked again, and again, and again until she could hear the letterbox open.</p><p>A male voice rang through into the dark room.</p><p>She knew she was not daydreaming this time.</p><p>"Please, if anyone is there-" The voice was pleading—Pained. Wrecked. On the verge of death.</p><p>Hermione's body stopped trembling for a very short defying moment. She had lift her head to listen more intently.</p><p>"Please open up, please help me, please, <em>please.</em>"</p><p><em>This could be a trap, Hermione</em>. A way to find the missing.</p><p>She tried to not let the guilt eat at her when she heard the letterbox close.</p><p>
  <em>What if they need help, what if they'll be taken to the graveyard, Hermione?</em>
</p><p>She pulled her broken body from the floor before taking four careful steps over to the door, making sure her body could not be seen from the gaps in the curtains by the window.</p><p>Without making a sound, she glared through the round peephole. She had prepared herself to see a guard, she prepared himself to see a gun, a mask, something malicious—</p><p>Yet that was not what she saw.</p><p>A boy—a boy with white hair, A boy with blood on his face. He was looking around, His eyebrow was red and oozing. His hands were stained ruby.</p><p>He needed help. <em>Help him, Hermione.</em></p><p>The boy was hiding, his back pressed against the wall of the house, so Hermione took this as the chance to wrap a trembling hand around the rusty doorknob before pulling it open.</p><p>She didn't say anything, she didn't give the boy time to react, she gripped his arm and pulled him into the silence of his house. A gasp left the mouth of the rescued as the front door slammed shut and Hermione locked it.</p><p>"Who are you?" Hermione asked, standing a few meters away from the intruder.</p><p>
  <em>He is not an intruder, you brought him in, Hermione.</em>
</p><p>Though Hermione had to be careful, He could be a spy, he could have been working for <em>them</em>.</p><p>Their eyes lingered on each other for a few short moments. He seemed familiar in a nonsensical way.</p><p>"Thank you, thank you, <em>thank you</em>" The stranger had tears falling from his eyes, it made Hermione's heart soften for a short second before the voice in her head reminded her to not get too comfortable. "They found me, you saved me. "</p><p>Hermione gulped.</p><p>
  <em>They found him, Hermione. They'll find you too, soon.</em>
</p><p>Not thinking on it, Hermione ran to the kitchen, sliding the emergency kit from a cupboard above the stove.</p><p>"You seem hurt."</p><p>He nodded as he gulped. She stared at him for a moment. He seemed callous, with a sharp jawline and blue eyes. His features were unmoving.</p><p>Like a marble statue. Cold and icy. Yet filled with memories, filled with stories. Filled with ideology and wisdom. Hermione liked that.</p><p>He wasn't young. Yet Hermione struggled to call him a man. Maybe on the cusp of twenty-three, maybe twenty-four at a push. She couldn't be sure.</p><p>Hermione noticed his clothes were torn. His hands were shaking.</p><p>She knew this feeling, all too well, the pure fear, the pure trepidation.</p><p>"They killed her,"</p><p>"Her?" Hermione's mouth parted while her hands began to tremble. "Who?"</p><p>She was worried. What if they come for her next? What if they are onto <em>her</em>?</p><p>Her hands continued to tremble, ever so slightly, as she reached a cloth to the cut eyebrow, wiping it carefully.</p><p>He flinched when her hand made contact with the skin by his eye.</p><p>They were too close, Hermione hadn't been this close to another body for far too long.</p><p>This was damaging. Mentally and Physically. It was bad. The walls she had brought up around herself had dropped.</p><p>The boy, man, gulped again, the tears still working inside of his sharp eyes. "My mother."</p><p>Hermione knew that feeling all too well, too.</p><p>She loathed the pit of familiarity that fell into a putrid space in her chest.</p><p>Like a cascade of pain, she had the burning desire to wrap her arms around the new body, a strong temptation to tell him that they can get through this because she knew eventually, they won't get through this. It seemed inevitable.</p><p>Hermione nodded, making sure the cut on his eyebrow wasn't too deep, which it wasn't.</p><p>The new body shuddered when a loud bang from outside ringed throughout the room.</p><p>"What's your name?" Hermione asked, trying to take his mind off the pressing issue of war and defeat echoing from outside.</p><p>While speaking she had stood to wet a paper towel to wipe down his crimson-stained hands.</p><p>The water in the kitchen did not work anymore, so she had to be careful with how much water she could use from the large bottle under the sink. Soon it would be time for the water in the bathroom to come to an end too, leaving her empty. She was prepared, of course.</p><p>As she wiped his hands, she studied his palms. They were filled with thin lines and dents and scars. His right hand held a particular mark in the center, like it had been frequently holding something of a certain length or size many times. It puzzled her. She ignored it.</p><p>"Draco. Draco Malfoy." His voice was small, nothing more than a mere whisper. It was almost like he was worried about becoming too <em>familiar</em>. Of course, she didn't blame him. "Your name?"</p><p>His name lingered in her mind the same way the moon lingers in the sky hours after the sun has risen.</p><p>"Hermione, my name is Hermione Granger."</p><p>It was silent for a second.</p><p>Silent inside, silent even outside. Not a shudder, not even the sound of a car, a gun. Silence.</p><p>It was somewhat suffocating.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. December 10th, 2002.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <em>10th December, 2002.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>The sound of the alarm filled the cold walls.</p><p>This meant it was morning. This meant it was time to live out another bleak day.</p><p>Hermione peeled back her eyelids. Her body was crumbled into the small bathtub she hides in.</p><p>It was even more crumbled now there were two bodies to fill it.</p><p>Draco woke up slowly too, his hand reaching out to grasp Hermione's arm. He had done this every day for the past month, to check Hermione was still there, to check she had not been taken. It was comforting, for the most part.</p><p>Having someone, having Draco.</p><p>Draco was like a star, Hermione thought.</p><p>Even in all this darkness and emptiness, Draco still found a way to shine. He found a way to laugh, a way to run around the house with a smile on his face, a way to brighten up Hermione's life.</p><p>
  <em>You love him, Hermione, he's a friend, you love him as a friend.</em>
</p><p>But Draco was damaged. His soul was broken. Some days he refused to even look her in the eye. Some days he sat by himself in the kitchen and stared at the wall, his fingers tracing over the scars on his skin. </p><p>He was toxic like venom. Yet beautiful like rain.</p><p>She knew many things have happened to him in the past to make him so torn. Yet she appreciated his appraisal, his effort. Even if she knew it was breaking him inside. She knew he was trying to her. For positivity. For hope.</p><p>"Good morning" Hermione hummed, voice low and croaky as she struggled to peel herself from the cold of the tub and stretched to sit up. Draco was curled into a ball, half on her lap.</p><p>A small scream echoed from outside and Hermione made the mistake of poking an eye through her broken curtains, a girl running is what she saw, before she disappeared behind a wall.</p><p>Hermione hadn't seen another body that wasn't Draco's in weeks. It felt strange.</p><p>"I'm hungry."" Draco replied after a minute, he used Hermione's thigh to pull his way up into a sitting position.</p><p>Relishing in the morning drowsiness, his eyes were swollen. The left side of his face was half aglow by the crack of light seeping through the curtain, falling across his eye. It sparkled like a shell in an ocean. Perplexingly beautiful. Rare.</p><p>Hermione admired his looks. Before the apocalypse, she could not remember what her type in man, or woman, had been. Relationships had felt like a blank slate, like that part of her brain was wiped clean. She didn't know if Draco would have ever been the type of man she admired.</p><p>
  <em>You admire him, Hermione.</em>
</p><p>"We have some fruits leftover, from last week," Hermione told him, crawling from the small space and letting her sock-clad feet land on the cold ground. "Do you want me to bring you some?"</p><p>Draco shook his head, yet instead followed to walk to the kitchen with her.</p><p>Hermione noticed his arm had hooked around her own. She knew she liked that. Human contact. It was a rarity before Draco arrived. It was still somewhat a rarity now, Draco knew there were boundaries, but he broke them sometimes, like right now.</p><p>Hermione liked that. When he broke the boundaries. When he broke the unwritten rules. She knew she hadn't liked to break rules before now.</p><p>"I miss chicken." Draco's voice was subtle. His body found its way to the small armchair that sat in the room. He curled into it, face squashing against the material. "I miss chicken soup, do you remember that?"</p><p>"I remember. Waking up on a cold morning and eating chicken soup, or when you were sick and your parents would bring you chicken soup in bed, that was great." Hermione's voice had turned sad half-way through the sentence.</p><p>Remembering the past was hard, the image of his parents flickered in her mind, yet she couldn't quite place their faces. All she could remember was that her mother had dark green eyes, almost hazel. She knew she didn't have siblings, but she knew she lived with someone else her age.</p><p>She believed the apocalypse had fizzled with her brain to make her forget things that were sentimental.</p><p>"Don't be sad, Hermione." Draco had noticed the glare in Hermione's brown eyes. Draco knew it was okay to cross the floor and use his thumbs to wipe the tears from her cheeks. He knew this was what Hermione needed, comfort. Hermione needed comfort during these times of weakness. "Think of the past as a happy memory, like we said, okay?"</p><p>Hermione nodded. She knew this was harder for Draco, his loss just so very recent. Hermione had time to grow, she was <em>forced</em> to grow throughout the months she spent alone.</p><p>Draco had also lost it all, she had to be strong.</p><p>
  <em>For him, Hermione, be strong for Draco.</em>
</p><p>"Yeah. Yeah okay." Hermione nodded again, her eyes met the pair that stare back at her, a mere few inches away. The air felt warm when they were like this. Close, human. "Thank you."</p><p>"You're welcome" Draco spoke as he did the unexpected—he pressed a kiss to Hermione's cheek.</p><p>It was soft, his lips felt warm against her skin. This was something Hermione had unconsciously been craving since this all began. "Now, food."</p><p>Hermione laughed inwardly, shuffling over to open the fridge. She was met with a mere sight, a few bananas (Hermione didn't think they should be kept in the fridge, but Draco argued they tasted better cold), and fresh vegetables Hermione had stolen from a garden a few doors down.</p><p>She pulled out a carrot and a few tomatoes. There wasn't many left, but she knew that Draco liked them.</p><p>She felt a wavering need to protect him. Though she knew he didn't need protecting. The scars on his ribs and the large laceration on his forearm told her he had protected himself well enough to get where he ended up. With her. Yet it was unbinding. Maybe not so much needing to protect him— <em>wanted</em> to protect him.</p><p>It was certainly a lame excuse for a breakfast.</p><p>Hermione wanted to hand him a syrup-oozing pancake, with a mug of coffee. Yet, a small bowl of carrots, tomatoes, and a cold banana would have to suffice.</p><p>Draco was grateful anyway and ate it without complaints.</p><p>While Draco ate, Hermione's mind began to wander. She thought for a moment that, despite spending every day inside of this house with Draco for over a month, she really knew little about his past life. She knows he ran from London, alone, with nothing but a small bag on his shoulder. </p><p>She wanted to ask, to hear about his mother, his siblings, maybe even his pets. She wanted to ask what he studied at school, and if he played any instruments, but she didn't ask.</p><p>She couldn't bring herself to let the words slip from her tongue.</p><p>"Hermione, what are you staring at?" Draco asked, a small smirk plucking at his lips. Hermione felt her cheeks burning with red at the fact she was caught staring.</p><p>She hadn't realised she was staring at the way the Draco ate, filling his cheeks with the small content of food before swallowing it down. Staring at the way his thin fingers clasped the fork, like a fist.</p><p>It was silent, Hermione noticed. She could only hear the wind outside.</p><p>"I was just thinking" Hermione admitted, leaning forward to press her elbows to the counter. <em>About you</em>.</p><p>"About the before?" Draco sighed, dropping his fork into the empty bowl. Hermione nodded carefully, she didn't want to upset her company, she didn't want to scare him away, or make things too awkward. "What do you want to know, Hermione?"</p><p>Everything. "Did you have pets?"</p><p>Draco laughed slightly, his eyes creasing.</p><p>"I had a dog called Fred, he ran away one night when the fires started, so I assume he didn't make it far." He paused before speaking once more. "I can't remember why I called him Fred, he looks nothing like a Fred. But the name sat in my brain when I looked at his shaggy orange fur."</p><p>Hermione hummed, thinking about where her old cat would be right now. She knew the answer, he was dead. Yet she doesn't want to think like that, so she imagined him sitting on a velvet cushion playing with a knitted toy, that was a nicer image.</p><p>"My brother, brought the dog, apparently," Draco spoke again, answering questions Hermione didn't verbally ask to hear. "My mother told me, I can't remember him well. I must have been young."</p><p>"You had a brother?" Hermione asked. "What was he called?"</p><p>"Theo," Draco replied. Short and curt.</p><p>Hermione's heart felt heavy in her chest.</p><p>The tear that rolled absentmindedly down Draco's porcelain cheek made her heavy heart drop into her stomach, so she wiped it from his skin with the flat of her thumb.</p><p>Hermione didn't speak, she didn't answer Draco's words. Draco let out another sob into her touch.</p><p>"Apparently, my father ratted us out to the guards." Draco confined, Hermione could see his large hands curve into fists on the table. "He got my mother killed, in the middle of the night, he came in wearing a black cloak and stole her from her room."</p><p>Hermione's mouth fell into an 'o'.</p><p>
  <em>Hug him Hermione, you fool.</em>
</p><p>Draco melted into Hermione's touch, his head burying into the warmth of her chest. Draco had stroked her hair with his hand, holding her close when the sound of aircraft flying above shakes the house.</p><p>She didn't realise she had started crying, too.</p><p>Draco whispered that everything will be okay and that his mother and brother were watching over him to get <em>them</em> though this.</p><p>They sat there for what felt like an hour, Hermione sobbing into Draco's chest, wetting his green jumper.</p><p>Only when they untangled their bodies did Hermione realise; <em>life would really suck without Draco here right now.</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. January 1st, 2003.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <em>1st January, 2003.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>Leaving the house in broad daylight was unnerving.</p><p>Leaving the safe confinement of the home at any time was scary, but Hermione had to leave, she had to escape the four walls to get food, drink, and supplies—like toilet roll and shampoo. Necessities to live.</p><p>Draco was hungry, his body was thinning. Just ever so slightly, but enough for Hermione to notice. His ragged jawline had become even more defined. His ribs poked into her while they slept.</p><p>Draco had been in Hermione's life for only three months now, but Hermione would have done anything to keep him well.</p><p>She was sure he felt the same way.</p><p>It had been quiet, the past few weeks. The guards stopped searching, they had moved down to Bristol. Hermione does not know why. Though. it meant the streets were empty, ghostly.</p><p>Hermione's fingers still trembled as she passed every street, keeping her head low, a knife in her pocket.</p><p>Draco had demanded to join her every-time she left the house to get food. She had always refused to let him. She knew he was safe at home, she knew no one could take him there unless he was found.</p><p>It eased her that he was as safe as he could be.</p><p>He still squeezed her shoulders and told her to be safe every-time she headed towards the door.</p><p>
  <em>"Don't you dare do something stupid and leave me, Mione."</em>
</p><p>The words ringed in her ears. <em>Don't leave me</em>. Don't.</p><p>By midday, Hermione reached the shop she attended every other week. It was empty and the glass window had been smashed in five places as a result of the riots that had begun when the camps started to form. — She had never understood the regime. She had never understood why this had happened. It seemed as though there was a black hole in her head. She couldn't remember much from being a child. Let alone the spark of a national breakdown.</p><p>Inside was bleak too, most foods were inedible by then, filling with mold or dust. But most things like tinned fruit and some of the frozen vegetables were available to eat. Hermione craved something sweet, like brioche bread or a cake.</p><p>The thought of something like that now seemed more than far-fetched.</p><p>There was nobody working in the store anymore.</p><p>The dry blood smeared on the wall behind the counter told Hermione it didn't end well here. But she still acted as if it was normal as if nothing had happened in this place. She felt silly. But silly meant she wouldn't crumble.</p><p>Hermione quickly grabbed some frozen vegetables, two bottles of water, a box of cereal that was most likely stale, a flavor she doesn't favor but knew Draco liked, some tinned fruits, pineapples, and peaches, before throwing them into the same plastic bag she had been using for the past four months. One she found disposed of on the street.</p><p>She wondered about the before, she wondered whose hands held the bag, she wondered about their family, their own struggle. The thought caused her to have a lump in her throat, one that she has to push into his chest to allow his feet to start moving again.</p><p>
  <em>Forget it, Hermione.</em>
</p><p>"Good afternoon Luna, just this please" Hermione spoke to no one but herself, pretending that there was someone behind the counter.</p><p>It was always the name Luna. It had stuck in her mind for some strange reason. The name reminded her of someone, something, but she never really knew what. She told herself it reminded her of the sky, particularly the moon and the stars.</p><p>That's how she imagined her false worker behind the counter too; a young girl, with soft features. Maybe red hair, maybe white or a mousey brow. It gave her some comfort to pretend people like that still had hope. That they still existed.</p><p>And of course, there was no reply, but Hermione still left some coins on the counter, so she wasn't technically stealing the food. Even in an apocalypse, she didn't want to be convinced as a thief. The coins would be gone the next time she came. Maybe someone was taking them, someone like her, seeking rescue.</p><p>"Thank you Luna, see you next time!"</p><p>
  <em>You really are pathetic, Hermione.</em>
</p><p>When Hermione arrived back at the house, Draco was curled into a ball on the sofa, his eyes wandering out of the closed window, a finger holding open the blinds. Hermione watches him flinch when the door closes behind her, but his tense expression fades when he sees Hermione setting the food onto the counter.</p><p>"Draco, what are you doing?" Hermione asked, eyeing him up.</p><p>Draco didn't uncurl himself from the seat he was occupying. He didn't speak for a moment, the sound of a heavy, yet comforting silence filled the room.</p><p>"Are you okay?"</p><p>"I'm okay." The smallness of Draco's voice worried her.</p><p>She worried he had cracked.</p><p>His eyes were still lingering out of the window, his hands tracing the glass. "It's empty"</p><p>"What is?" Hermione walked towards Draco, kneeling on the couch next to him. Her knee brushed against his.</p><p>She joined him by looking out to where Draco was staring<br/>and she knows what he meant without Draco replying yet.</p><p>She knew what he meant. She knew.</p><p>"The country, it's <em>empty</em>" Draco replied. His voice lingered with sadness and anger. Rage. Subtle, but there. She knew he was angry. She knew he was broken.</p><p>He was torn in two.</p><p>
  <em>Don't let him cry Hermione, you hate it when he cries.</em>
</p><p><em>"</em>I don't get what happened. I don't. I don't understand how this came to be. If feels like there's a hole in my head. A blank state of consciousness. Like someone has wiped my memory. I don't remember my friends, i don't remember my family that well. So many things remind me of the before but in ways i don't know." Draco's words fell like snow, plunging the room into a bitter coldness.</p><p>At least she wasn't the only one feeling this way. She doesn't have time to tell him, as he rambled on.</p><p>"When I see trees, I can picture myself sitting in one as a teen, something like a black cloak wrapped around me. When I see shooting stars, it reminds me of something magical, yet childish and preen. When I look at the black wardrobe in the hallway, it reminds me of something broken and terrifying. It's like the outcome of the apocalypse has defied me. <em>Broken</em> me. I don't remember who i was."</p><p>Draco's eyes dropped from the window, instead he moved to pull Hermione against his shoulder. His skin was warm, and his messy white hair smelled faintly like apples.</p><p>Hermione hummed as a response. Because she understood totally what he had meant.</p><p>"I feel the same. My childhood is a blur. Many things in this house are a blur." Hermione spoke. "Like the dusty round glasses on the table. I don't touch them because i don't know who owned them. It feels tainted."</p><p>Draco pressed a small kiss against her temple and slid his hand inside her own.</p><p>Her body shudders. He had always had trouble with affection. But she knew he cared. She knew he cared more than he wanted to admit.</p><p>Draco's hand felt like honey and ice all at once, in the best way. It felt like comfort, it felt like security. It felt like <em>something</em>. Something Hermione needed. The warmth spread through the veins in her hand, to her arm and to her chest, right into the center of her heart.</p><p>
  <em>Is this what love feels like, Hermione?</em>
</p><p>"I remember my mother coming into my room every night when the apocalypse first started. She would wet my head with a paper towel to keep me from having nightmares. I still did of course. They never made sense. They were nightmares of snakes, of snow, of the woods, of weird necklaces that catch on fire, and ladies with wild curly black hair. I miss my mother."</p><p>"I miss the before." Draco began to stroke her hair. His other hand gripped onto her own as if it was the only thing in the world. For him, it was. They had nothing else, but each other. "I miss the sound of owls hooting at my window. I don't know why i miss that. I miss the sound of my mother's slippers on the floor, I miss my best friends teasing me over my hair, I mis-"</p><p>"Draco, stop." Hermione knew he needed to stop him. She knew she needed to calm him. "You have me now, okay?"</p><p>Draco glanced over to her, his hand leaving her own temporarily.</p><p>Hermione thought, for a moment, that right then, they could kiss, because Draco's lips were less than two centimeters away from her own. She knew that's what happened in movies when people stare at each other in this way. She wondered what this feeling meant, the feeling of desire to reach out and cup the face of her rescue, to kiss his lips until they were red-raw. She wondered if this was because Draco was the only person she knew, anymore.</p><p>But then, Draco looked away, a soft smile dancing on his lips.</p><p>
  <em>You idiot, Hermione, you should have kissed him.</em>
</p><p>"I wonder who else is left in this town" Hermione was trying to break the somewhat awkward tension that fell in the room. "It seems like there's no one here, but there must be, there must be someone."</p><p>"Well, the day you saved me I saw a boy, he was hiding, his body was behind a car" Draco whispered, almost as if he feels guilty. "He had orange hair, he stared at me like he knew me. Like he recognised me. Yet when I turned back to ask him to run with me, he was gone."</p><p>"Are you scared?"</p><p>"Of what, Mione?" Draco's hand had found its way back into her own. That was good. That was safe.</p><p>His palms were scarred and rough and brittle.</p><p>"The future, do you think this will ever end?" And as if on cue, the sound of a large plane could be heard, flying lowly overhead. And the sound of cars, blaring and whirring down the street broke the safe silence of their home.</p><p>Draco's eyes widened and Hermione can hear her heart hammering in her chest as he carefully peeled back the blinds, to see <em>them</em>. They were back, with their black suits and black guns, their picket signs and megaphones, they're determination.</p><p>She spotted a message on a picket sign she had never heard before.</p><p>
  <em>Kill all Muggles. Kill all Oblivated.</em>
</p><p>She wondered what this meant. For one moment. But only for one small moment—Because there was more to worry about than some stupid little picket sign.</p><p>"We will be okay, Hermione" Draco comforted her, as she let a tear roll down her cheek. "We will always be okay."</p><p>But Hermione wasn't sure if she believed him, because Draco was whisking her away into the bathroom, curling them both into the safe security of the bathtub.</p><p>The doors were locked and the lights were off. Hermione trembles into his skin when the screams start and when the loud gunfire ruptures the serenity of their home.</p><p>"Don't ever leave me, Draco" Her voice was barely a whisper, could barely be heard. But he heard it and pulled her closer to his body, she was scared, she was cold now, shivering into his chest. "You're all I have"</p><p>She had cracked.</p><p>"You know I'll never leave you, Hermione." He replied, his voice low. He was frightened too, things had been so peaceful, so empty and calm for the past month, but the sound of aircraft above them is loud, it fades, and comes back, and fades, and comes back. She thought the country was empty now, she thought she would die in this home, but now he was unsure. She was scared. Very scared.</p><p>"I think" Hermione spoke, her arm shaking around Draco's waist. "I think that I want to die, I don't want to live through this anymore."</p><p>Draco pulls her face up to look at him. "<em>Never</em> say that."</p><p>She swallowed.</p><p>For a moment silence fell over the city, Hermione couldn't tell if this is because all he can hear is the thumping in his chest. Draco was staring into her eyes, her chin still in his grasp.</p><p>Hermione thought about how Draco's eyes were glossy, radiating the image of the stars. they sat there for a moment, skin on skin, listening to the silence and Hermione sighs.</p><p>
  <em>You want to kiss him. Kiss him, Hermione.</em>
</p><p>And so she did.</p><p>She leaned her lips onto Draco's, the other gasped but let his lips falter against her own.</p><p>Draco's lips tasted of winter, Hermione thought. Of winter and snow and peppermints. They tasted of heaven. The taste was familiar but distant all at once.</p><p>And at that moment, she wants to stay like this, forever. With his lips pressed against her own because she doesn't know how long this can really last.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. June 23rd, 2001.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>June 23rd, 2001.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione woke to the sound of pounding on her bedroom door. It took her less than two seconds to rush and open it with shaking hands.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Ron?" Her eyes were wide as Ron strode into her room. His hands were shaking at his sides. He had tears in his eyes. He looked broken. "Ron what—what's going on?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He gripped her shoulders in his hands.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She hadn't seen him this distraught since he saw Harry's dead body, covered in blood and dirt, being carried in Hagrid's arms back to the school grounds. It seemed like a lifetime ago.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>So much had happened since then. Bad things. Good things. — Mostly bad.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Do you realise, by tomorrow I may not remember who you are?" He gulped. "By next week, you may not even remember me, or Harry, or Luna, or Ginny. Him. You realise by next month we may not know who we really are? What we really are?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Her stomach fell into a pit of pain. A pit of worry. It was enough for years to prick at her eyes.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She shook her head, gripping her friends arms in her hands. She ran a thumb across the skin on his forearm.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"They won't find us, Ron." She didn't believe herself.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A tear ran down his face, pooling into the crease between his nose and cheek. Hermione thought for a moment he may pass out.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"He wiped another thousand today. A thousand. That's a thousand wizards who believe they are nothing but muggles." His hands dropped from her shoulders. "T-they Obliviated Malfoy today, Theo Nott, even Narcissa. And Lavender. They killed Hagrid last week. They killed—fuck Hermione. Who knew it would come to this?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione wanted to cry for him. He had proposed to Lavender just three weeks prior.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione pursed her lips. Sadness ripped throughout her body. If Voldemort could happily punish Wizards like the Malfoy family, who had been trusty Death Eaters throughout the war, They would never spare her and Ron. Or the Weasley's. Luna, Seamus, Cho. He had even killed Neville the moment Nagini's head fell from her body. It made her want to be violently sick. He was cruel. There was nothing she could do to stop him, not anymore.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She tried to not let her mind flood with the image of Malfoy's face, of Narcissa.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Because they had been good.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But there was nothing— Nothing that she could do.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It was never meant to come to this.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Many Wizards had betrayed Voldemort's trust since he won the war. Since he carried back Harry's lifeless teen body and left it to rot against the canopy. She wondered what Wizards would even remain.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Ron." She tried to steady her voice. It didn't work. It wavered and cracked as she spoke his name. "We have to stay positive."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"H-how, Hermione?" He sat against her bed. The red sheets crumbled beneath his weight. "What am I meant to do if I forget you? What am I meant to do if they kill you, or me, or us both?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione tried to not retch at the thought of losing her other best friend. She had not even recovered from the loss of Harry. It had been many years, yet she hadn't touched the glasses he left on her kitchen counter. Physically, she could not bring herself to touch them.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"We have too many memories, Hermione." His voice was now hardly audible. "All I can think about is meeting you on the Hogwarts express. All i can think about is growing up with you, with Harry, with magic surrounding me. I think i'd rather die than to live without all of this."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She sat beside him. Her head fell against his shoulder. She savoured the smell of his cranberry body wash.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Give me your hand." She spoke, he rose his palm unconsciously. It shook under her touch. She grasped her wand from her pocket and pointed it towards the skin on his thumb. He gasped as she muttered 'Atramento'.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She watched the black letters sink into his skin;</em>
</p><p>
  <em>HRH</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She gulped before pointing her wand at her own hand and doing the same. It stung. It stung beautifully.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It mirrored Ron's tattoo. But she had added an extra initial.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"This way, even if it comes to the point of forgetting me. We will always be there." A salty tear fell down Hermione's face. Her stomach pulsated with the oncoming grief. "I think our hearts will always remember each other, Ron. No matter what. You're my best friend. Nothing can replace that."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He nodded. He pressed a kiss against her temple and held her while they both began to sob.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Bellatrix Lestrange murdered Ron Weasley the next day in the ironic comfort of his family home.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione never knew.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She would never know.</em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. March 20th, 2003.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <em>March 20th, 2003.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>"What are you doing, Draco?"</p><p>Draco turned towards her, his eyes bright like the moon.</p><p>He was curled up against the window, like usual. His hair was a mess against his head and his body was engulfed in one of Hermione's old red sweatshirts. Hermione hadn't seen that sweatshirt in over two years, yet Draco had found it under the wardrobe two nights ago.</p><p>Hermione hadn't asked why he was peering under the black wardrobe, with tear stained eyes. She never asked.</p><p>She noticed he had an old CD player on his lap. No music was playing.</p><p>"Baby, come look at this." Draco's voice contained more excitement than Hermione had ever heard. It was childlike. Almost worrying. He had been so down the past few weeks, when he had dreamt of a group of travellers being tortured in his dining room. His dreams were becoming more vivid, more frightening.</p><p>Hermione woke most nights to wet his head with a wet towel.</p><p>He always complained there were no faces in his dreams. That frustrated him most.</p><p>Hermione's feet carried her towards the sofa that was host to Draco's thin body.</p><p>Her eyes panned through the glass to spot what he was so excited to see. <em>Cows, </em>Four of them, walking together in unison.</p><p>For the first time in a while, Hermione laughed so hard she nearly threw up. It really was not that funny. It really was not funny enough for Hermione to hiccup as cheerful tears brimmed her eyes.</p><p>Yet, it was the first sign of life they had seen in months, since the fighting in the city had ended. It brought an odd sense of joy and flooded Hermione's veins with a happy jealousy as she walked them walk out of sight behind an old-beaten car.</p><p>She envied their freedom. Yet, she felt rejoiced. If she, <em>they</em>, couldn't have freedom, she was bitterly glad that at least they could. At least <em>something</em> could.</p><p>Draco leaned to press a kiss against Hermione's cold cheek. His contact still sent shock waves throughout her chest like it was the first time they had kissed. While they hadn't spoken much about their first kiss, it was obvious that they had become tied as one. They didn't need to talk about it. They didn't need to clarify it. For they were all each-other had. The hand holding, the kissing, the sex. It was all they had. It's all they could have.</p><p>
  <em>It's love, Hermione, you fool.</em>
</p><p>"I bet we'll see more animals in the street, these days" Hermione said, running her hands through Draco's hair. Although she trimmed it regularly, it had still grown much longer. It fell past his ears at the back of his neck and cusped by the silver ring that dangled in his ear. "There is no control between the countryside to here, anymore."</p><p>Draco stifled his laugh, his chest is rising and falling in time with Hermione's. It had been too long since Hermione saw Draco look so happy. That was a relief, sadness did not look good on him.</p><p>"What did you buy at the store?"</p><p>"I found some tinned cranberries today," Hermione said, proudly. Her voice wavered as she spoke and Draco raised an eyebrow. "They were at the back of the shelf, hidden by the pineapple."</p><p>Hermione didn't realise her eyes had begun to sting.</p><p>"And why does that make you sad?" Draco asked, closing the blind with his spare hand and turning to face her with his full attention. "Why are tears threatening to fall at the mention of Cranberries?"</p><p>His blue eyes danced across her skin. They reminded Hermione of the ocean.</p><p>"Someone I know used to smell like cranberries." Hermione was truthful. Draco kissed her softly, to stop the tears that were brimming in her eyes. "Whoever it was used to use a cranberry body wash, I think. I can't remember who, that is what annoys me."</p><p>Draco simply hummed, nodding his head slowly. She knew he was at a loss of words. It was hard to talk about.</p><p>They tried to not talk about the before more than once a day, they promised to talk about the future instead.</p><p>"What were your parents names?" Draco asked, looking down at her with a solemn expression.</p><p>He tried to change the subject to stop her tears from falling.</p><p>"Monica and Wendall Granger." The words burnt her tongue.</p><p>"Do you ever wonder where they ended up?" Draco's voice was careful, his hand squeezing Hermione tightly, to comfort her. To comfort them both. It worked. "All these people we knew but can't quite remember."</p><p>Draco began to trace the outline of the tattoo on her thumb. It made her shiver with indictment—for she didn't recall who had given it to her or what it stood for.</p><p>"Of course, all the time" Hermione smiled softly at the thought of her old friends and family. She pictured her mother, who was ripped from arms last christmas.</p><p>"For example, I like to think my mother and father escaped this all. I like to think they ended up escaping to Spain, or maybe to France and they are sitting in the sun with a smile on their faces."</p><p>Draco let his lips slot against her own for a moment to calm her staggered breaths.</p><p>"Yet, really deep down, I know they are at the Graveyard" Hermione choked on her words.</p><p>Her chest felt like it was going to explode. The horrible image of her beautiful mother. Her beautiful father. While she began to cry, images of people fell into her mind. A boy with red hair, a girl with blue robes, a man with long white hair and a beard to match. That happened often. Little memories. It frustrated her even more she couldn't place them. She had always told herself that the government had done something to rid everyone's memories. But she knew that was humanly impossible. She knew it was her own fault.</p><p>She believed her brain was choosing to shut out memories of the past because of the guilt.</p><p>She wanted to scream, to scream for release, she wanted it to all go back to how it was before. Yet she couldn't even remember what the before <em>was</em>.</p><p>
  <em>Pull yourself together, pull yourself together, pull yourself together, Hermione.</em>
</p><p>"I'm sorry." Draco spoke quickly, using both his arms to wrap himself around Hermione's skinny frame.</p><p>Draco felt like safety, which calmed her racing heart, it sizzled the fire in her chest.</p><p>"I shouldn't have asked."</p><p>Guilt fell between the cracks in Hermione's chest.</p><p>She had felt so selfish. For she knew that Draco would be feeling the same way. She knew he was riddled with his own grief and his own pain. Selfishness ran through her like a curse, seeping into her skin.</p><p>She wanted nothing more than for him to be happy. His eyes told her he had already passed the point of total return. Her heart was starting to crack to pieces.</p><p>"I love you." It was the first time she had said that.</p><p>It was the first time Hermione had admitted his love for the boy. She knew that this was love, she knew that the burning sensation inside her veins every time they touched was love. She knew it was.</p><p>
  <em>You're in love, Hermione. I pity you.</em>
</p><p>"I love you so much, Draco."</p><p>"I think it was fate, that brought me here." Draco spoke with uncertainty. His face was riddled with some sort of sadness, some confusion. Yet his features were soft.</p><p>"Because, Grang- Hermione, I've never felt love before this."</p><p>
  <em>He loves you back, Hermione.</em>
</p><p>Draco kissed Hermione so beautifully in that moment.</p><p>His hands fell on either side of her face. Then his fingers ran through her brown hair. His lips tasted like heaven, and his body felt like the ocean against her own, swirling and crashing her into a dream like momentum. It was times that this that for just a moment, both of them could forget they were living through an apocalypse, they could forget they were alone in this town, they could forget what had happened before.</p><p>They stayed like this, for a while, until Hermione breaks the kiss, instead pulling Draco's body closer to her own. He smelt like winter. He smelt like the past. He spelt like <em>memories</em>.</p><p>She wondered if she had known him before the apocalypse had begun.</p><p>"How did you find my house?" Hermione asked after a moment, letting her hands rest on Draco's shoulders. "Out of every house in this town, how did you find me?"</p><p>"I knocked on every door on the street." Draco spoke, tongue hugging his bottom lip. "I was ready to give up, no one answered, every house was empty, until I saw the half broken number twelve on your door, it reminded me of something i couldn't quite place. Good or bad, I didn't know. But the number sat in my mind until my body told me this was right."</p><p>Hermione's lips parted into a small 'o'. Her hands were still firm on Draco's shoulders, her heart was still beating in his chest. She had wanted to reply, but Draco continued, his voice breaking the momentary silence.</p><p>"I knocked, I knocked and knocked because deep down I thought someone would save me and then I felt your hand around my wrist and I knew everything was going to be okay".</p><p>He paused again before speaking.</p><p>"Your touch was familiar. I'm not sure how, maybe it simply reminded me of my mother, or maybe something else. I struggle to place it."</p><p>"Did you run for long?" Despite knowing Draco for four months now, Hermione never asked him about <em>that</em> day, the day where the helicopters were rushing over the city, the day people were screaming. "How did you not get caught?"</p><p>"I travelled carefully, I walked with my head low, I walked with a knife in my pocket" Hermione suddenly remembered Draco sliding the knife into the kitchen draw, in silence, two hours after he had come into her home. "I went into the small alleys and never into the main streets, I stayed away from the city centre, I stayed away from anyone."</p><p>Hermione simply hummed. It was hard to talk about. So instead, she let her hands trail up Draco's neck to play with the ivory hair that sits on his nape. Her body tingled with familiarity. Her body tingled with pain. Everything was so, so—<em>sad</em>.</p><p>"You know, when I was shopping I saw a plane fly over." Hermione started, until she noticed worried expression building on the face of her lover. "Don't worry, it wasn't <em>them</em>, It was miles into the sky, hardly a dot."</p><p>"A commercial plane" Draco just about whispered, his eyes not leaving Hermione's for a second. He sounded down-sighted, yet he sounded hopeful.</p><p>"A commercial plane." She repeated, fingers still tugging at his hair. "They were probably American's, heading to somewhere like Tokyo, or somewhere like Thailand to relish in the sun."</p><p>Draco smiled bitterly at the image. His arms had begun caressing Hermione's waist.</p><p>He spoke into her ear. "Little kids crying on the plane, the air hostesses trying to calm them by playing peakaboo."</p><p>Hermione laughed softly at the thought of children.</p><p>"I wonder what they see when they look out of the window, flying above us." Draco continued. Hermione struggled on whether to focus on his soft voice or the soft hands on her waist. "That'll be us, one day, though"</p><p>"What will?"</p><p>"The plane, we will be sitting there, hand in hand, waiting to land in Spain, or Paris, or maybe even South Africa". There was a wide smile on Draco's face, all of his teeth on show.</p><p>And now he was laughing too, maybe because of excitement, because of hope, or because deep down he knows what he's saying is somewhat unrealistic. "Maybe we will have matching rings, on our fingers"</p><p>Hermione leant to kiss him, she kissed him so that she could feel his smile against his lips. She kissed him so she can absorb his beautiful hope, she kissed him every chance she got because she didn't want to ever forget the taste of his lips.</p><p>Draco laughed into his mouth and pulls her down on top of him.</p><p>Hermione was hovering above him, both hands on either side of his head, pressed against the sofa. He's planting kisses all over her mouth, down her neck, over her chest.</p><p>They laughed like this until the sun set, until they fall onto the floor, limb in limb. They laughed and kissed until they are forced to reside to the locked confinement of the bathroom, where they curled up in the bathtub.</p><p>They kissed until the sun came up.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. June 5th, 2003.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <em>June 5th, 2003.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>Hermione was wandering through the store she usually visited, trying to find something that was still edible to surprise Draco with.</p><p>It was a special day, today.</p><p>She shuffled past where the old bakery used to reside, she wished she could buy Draco some bread, but they were too old, too dusty, too contaminated.</p><p>She let her legs wander to where the freezers were at the back. These were no good. The power had now gone, they were contaminated too. And of course this worried her, it shook her chest in a strange way.</p><p>It wouldn't be long before the power in her, <em>their</em>, home was gone, too.</p><p>She wished she could buy Draco a cake, a big green cake with candles, rainbow coloured or silver. She knew Draco liked those colours.</p><p>"Ah, Luna, what do you buy your boyfriend to eat on his birthday? Hermione asked her imaginary friend as she crosses by the counter. The coins she left months ago were still there. Covered in a thin layer of dust. The person who usually takes them had not taken them this time. </p><p>An image of a graveyard springs in her mind like a putrid smell.</p><p>But then like magic, she spotted a sticker on the edge of the till, the till that is out of service, the contents emptied. It was a flower, a small flower sticker a child would stick to their knee on a summer day, with pink and yellow petals, covered with glitter.</p><p>
  <em>Flowers, Hermione, always buy your boyfriend flowers.</em>
</p><p>Although Hermione didn't take Draco for a guy who would relish in a sunflower field on a summers day, or pick at roses as he crossed a park. She knew he would like them. It would show him how much she cared. How much she would always care.</p><p>They weren't edible, of course, so she set out to find a bar of chocolate that is still in date, she succeeded, placing a white bar into the plastic bag. She found some cookies and grabs the usual tinned fruit and vegetables Draco liked to eat for dinner. Hermione didn't favour them, anymore, they were watery and she craved real food, but Draco liked them.</p><p>On Hermione's walk home, she had picked flowers from overgrown gardens and placed them into a tin she had taken from the shop. Of course it didn't look most pleasing to the eye, but it looked as good as she could get.</p><p>She had spotted some more animals wandering the streets, and had to nervously duck away from a small group of sheep wandering in the main road. One of them stepped on a paper, leaving a round mark of mud on the cover.</p><p>Curiously, she leant down to pick it up.</p><p>Feelings were fickle. Memories were fickle. Upon reading the title, <em>The Daily Prophet</em>, a weird sense of sadness rippled throughout Hermione's body.</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>"More hideaway oblivated wizards found hiding in Devon."</em>
  </b>
</p><p>Her stomach began to throb with something. Something she couldn't place. Yet, she laughed. She laughed so hard she doubled over.</p><p>She threw the paper back to the floor, telling herself not to occupy her mind with thoughts from a <em>children's</em> magazine.</p><p>She never bothered to tell Draco about the paper.</p><p>—</p><p>"Draco?" Hermione called out, setting the bag of shopping onto the counter. She held the flowers in a tight fist.</p><p>There was no reply.</p><p>"Malf- Draco?" She called again, a gloom of dread falling into her chest.</p><p>
  <em>No no no no no, not Draco. Anyone but Draco. Please.</em>
</p><p>"Draco where the <em>fuck</em> are you?"</p><p>She was yelling. The flowers she had picked dropped to the wooden floor.</p><p>The <em>worst</em> ran through her head, fear, dread, the image of a gravestone, the image of her parents being taken away in the black van. Her chest burns, the tears on her cheeks sink into her bones.</p><p>She ran through the house, passing by the stairs, passing by the bathroom. yelling Draco's name over, over and over again. There was no reply. <em>there was no reply. there was no reply.</em></p><p>When Hermione choked on a sob, she heard a soft gasp behind her as a hand landed on her shoulder.</p><p>"Hermione—"</p><p>She span on her heels, her glistening eyes met the ones that looked like the ocean.</p><p>
  <em>He is safe, he is here. He is okay, Hermione.</em>
</p><p>The horrible images fizzled from her mind and all she could do is throw her arms around his shoulders.</p><p>"I'm sorry, Hermione, I was in the garden, looking at the rainbow that had formed, I didn't hear you."</p><p>Guilt was ridden all over Draco's face. Hermione could feel his hands trembling at the small of her back.</p><p>She breathed into his neck. She savoured the smell of apples and pine that seeped on his skin.</p><p>"I wouldn't go anywhere without you, Hermione." His words sank into her neck, warm and hot against her soft skin. "You know that."</p><p>Hermione knew this. Os course she did.</p><p>But she couldn't contain her thoughts. The possibilities. She knew he wouldn't leave her. She didn't know that someone wasn't going to rip him from her hands.</p><p>"Happy birthday." Hermione whispered, squeezing the nape of his neck with her hands. She could feel his smile grazing her skin. "Wait here."</p><p>Draco tilted his head to the side like a puppy. His eyes were bright and hopeful.</p><p>Hermione rushed to the front door, plucking the fallen flowers from the ground. She thought they were still beautiful, despite the fall they received. An arrangement of pink and red roses, with a few daisies.</p><p>Rose was one of Hermione's favourite scents. She had been happy to see them blooming in overgrown gardens.</p><p>Hermione walked back into the hallway carefully, not letting the flowers fall out of the tin. Again. </p><p>She wanted to make him happy. To make him feel special, even just for one day.</p><p>"Flowers?" Draco reached out a hand, grabbing the tin from her hands. He brought it to his nose to take a deep breath.</p><p>He looked beautiful, like this. His pale skin damp from the rain in the garden, his hair slightly messy on his head, his lips curving into a smile. Hermione doesn't ever want to forget this smile.</p><p>She wasn't sure how long the smile would last.</p><p>"You like them?" Hermione asked, smiling as Draco touched the petals softly with his fingers. "I'm not sure what flowers are your favourite, so I hope these are okay"</p><p>"I love them, Hermione." Hermione felt a pair of soft lips against her own, short but sweet, short but grateful, short but perfect. "I think—if I'm remembering correctly, that rose was my mother's favourite scent. Or maybe it was a friend's favourite scent. I can't be sure."</p><p>They walked hand and hand back to the kitchen.</p><p>Draco decided to set the flowers next to the dusty pair of glasses. Something uneasy filled inside of Hermione's chest.</p><p>The sight of the flowers, which represented her new life with Draco, sitting alive next to a pair of untouched glasses, they represented death in Hermione's eyes. The kitchen counter represented a beautiful death. Abs un some strange way, it made Hermione comfortable.</p><p>Tragic, yet comfortable.</p><p>Maybe it represented hope.</p><p>An hour later, Hermione found herself, sitting on the wooden floor, shoulder to shoulder with Draco. </p><p>Her small hand was engulfed by his own in the small space between their bodies. His hand was warm. Draco had never represented warmth in Hermione's mind. He was ivory and cold like a beautiful winter. In this moment, he felt warm.</p><p>"I wonder what's going on in other countries" Draco whispered, his finger rubbing small circles against Hermione's thumb. Over the black ink on her finger. "I wonder if what happened here has happened there, I wonder if people tried to save us, our country"</p><p>It was a sullen thought.</p><p>"We should go to Paris!" Draco spoke suddenly. It was a crazy scheme, a scheme of his wildest dreams. But he's smiling at the hope of getting out of this apocalypse.</p><p>Draco jumped onto his feet, pulling Hermione up with him. "We can go through the ocean, on a big boat, maybe even paddle there if we can't afford the fare."</p><p>Draco was spinning, humming the tune of a French-inspired beat. His white hair flopped around his ears as he span, cupping his thin face. "And we can eat pancakes by the Louvre!"</p><p>Hermione considered for a moment he had lost his mind. He had. He was crazy. He was erratic. He was insane. Yet, so was she, so she grips his hands and danced with him.</p><p>And she laughed. She laughed because Draco was funny.</p><p>Literally and metaphorically. Literally funny because his usual cold face was turned upwards into a smile. Metaphorically because she knew there was little truth to his words.</p><p>Hermione thought that they danced for hours and hours. Her arms wrapped around Draco's waist, spinning him around over and over again. Then when they got tired her head fell against his shoulder before spinning around again, around and around again. They danced with their hands linked, with smiles on their faces, they danced until they felt sick. they danced until they collapse onto the floor in a bundle of laughter, a bundle of limbs, a bundle of happiness.</p><p>"I think I'll love you forever." Draco spoke breathlessly, a large, loud laugh escaping his throat. His chest was rising and falling and he was then swinging his long legs over Hermione's so that every inch of his skin is touching her own.</p><p>"I think so too." Hermione replied, trying to catch her breath.</p><p>While they lay there. Hermione's mind flickers. Something like deja vu. Something like a memory. It hurts. It shoots a pain across her skull.</p><p>Her brain reminded her of the paper she had found. The one she had convinced herself was nothing but a child's game. She almost told Draco, but she refrained. Don't break his reality.</p><p>Instead, Hermione kissed him, again, again, again and again, until the sun had set.</p><p>
  <em>You're so lucky, cherish him forever, Hermione.</em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. December 30th, 2000.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <em>December 30th, 2000.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>Draco woke to the smell of vanilla. It was the scent his mother used to wash the sheets he resided in every night. Warm and thick and gooey — he enjoyed no scent more than Vanilla. It reminded him so much of his mother.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Narcissa had beckoned him into the living room, where she sat on the emerald velvet sofa with one leg crossed. Her lips were pursed into a thin line and her hands shook at her sides.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Draco now only lived with his mother—Theodore Nott had lived with him since the war as a brother following Theo's fathers death.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Theodore Nott was killed three weeks prior by Amycus Carrow.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He had been killed by a curse while he was shopping for a new card game to play with Draco and Narcissa over dinner.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Draco had been sick every morning for three weeks.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The sun had barely risen. It was still dark in the manor's living room. Yellow candle light reflected against his mother's dark hair.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I'm sure you know that The Dark Lord still resents us for our decisions to leave the Dark Army." Her words were careful. They seeped from her lips like venom.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I am aware." Draco responded, nodding his head. He felt a chill run down his spine as he prepared himself for what his mother had to say.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Today, I have been informed that his plan to wipe all muggles from England is going well." She continued. She was twisting her wand in her hands absentmindedly, her fingers were still scarred from the battle. "He has decided to add the Rejected to that list."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The rejected. A term coined by The Dark Lord. Wizards he did not believe to be fitting for his Army. He had already killed most of them such asHarry Potter, Minerva, Pansy Parkinson, Mundugus. Theo. The list went on. Draco had found himself on the list of The Rejected alongside his mother. She had lied to Voldemort about Harry Potter's death. Told him he was dead while he was still breathing. Voldemort had given her the chance to redeem herself by becoming his loyal servant after he had successfully killed Harry Potter and let his body rot.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She denied; because Voldemort's main condition was to make Draco his right hand man.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She didn't want that for him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Instead, she had become close with Molly Weasley. Narcissa bid herself into helping the remaining living members of Order. Draco sometimes joined to help, but it was hard for him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But he joined for her. Not just for his mother. Her.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Mum, what are you trying to say?" Draco began to felt nervous. He laughed bitterly. "Has he finally planned to kill us all?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She shook her head. "Almost worse, Draco."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Draco's sarcastic smile fell from his lips.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"He has created an Oblivation spell so strong, it will wipe your memories of anything containing Magical Elements. Including your school. Including Theo. Including...her." She swallowed thickly. "If it continues to be successful. You will forget your life. You will believe you are muggle. And then, you will be taken to a camp to be tortured. Or to a Graveyard."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Draco stopped breathing.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He didn't realise he had begun to cry.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Darling." Narcissa stood and crossed the room to lean in-front of him. "This is not the way life should have been. When you threw your wand to Potter, he should have caught it. He should have won the war. But he did not. And now good people are dying."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She cupped his wet face with her scarred hands.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I will not forget you in anyway, Draco. No matter how hard he tries. I will not forget you." She had tears running down her face. "You are my son. Mine. Forever."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He could not speak.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Give me your foot, Draco." He leaned his foot against her knee. He wasn't sure what she was doing. "I will etch these letters into your skin. So even if his spell his successful, you will always have me on you. Me, Theo and her."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>However, Draco's mother wouldn't remember him forever.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Years after the oblivation was cast over half of the wizarding world, Voldemort had decided that just an obliviation spell would have been too kind for her.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He found her living in a cottage in Wales.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Scabior was sent to drag her away and take her back to London.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Voldemort pulled her tongue from her mouth and let her suffer for days until he finally sliced her throat and let Nagini eat her bones.</em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. August 13th, 2003.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <em>August 13th, 2003.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>On days like today, Draco woke with the hope of smelling Vanilla, wrapped in his emerald green sheets and the sound of his mother calling him to eat in the dining room. To feel the safety of magic running through his veins.</p><p>Yet on days like today, Draco woke up with his back pressed against the bathtub, the cold wall of it sank into his skin and coated his body with goosebumps.</p><p>There was one positive to waking up in a bathtub three sizes too small. He would wake up with Hermione's face buried in his shoulder and the breaths of her gentle snore pressing against his skin.</p><p>
  <em>She's your safety, now, Draco.</em>
</p><p>"Are you awake?" Draco whispered, running his fingers beneath her jumper, so that he could caress her stomach. It was soft and gentle. So feminine. So lovely, so very much Hermione.</p><p>She let out a small grunt for a reply, twisting uncomfortably. The bathtub wasn't big enough for them, not really. Draco never understood why they didn't sleep on the couch, or even set up a bed on the floor. Or in the bedroom.</p><p>Hermione had told him she hadn't stepped one foot inside her bedroom since her parents were dragged away in the black van.</p><p>She said it reminded her of the Graveyard.</p><p>Draco soon came to believe the Graveyard was her biggest fear.</p><p>"I think it's raining again today." Draco whispered, words hot against Hermione's forehead. He kissed it gently. She tasted like roses, like cinnamon, like summer rain and strength and joy.</p><p>For a minute, Draco thought he had tasted this before. In some other life. Some other place. It made his chest hurt with uncomfortability and familiarity all at once.</p><p>Maybe it was just deja Vu.</p><p>Or maybe he really did know her in a past life.</p><p>The thought made him smile.</p><p>Draco felt slender fingers run through his hair, hair that threatens to sit at his shoulders and he felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth.</p><p>"Can you hear it?"</p><p>Draco could hear the rain pattering against the cracked glass in the bathroom window, strong yet desolate and soft, relaxing all of his senses.</p><p>Draco thought that this moment was perfect, laying half awake with his body connected to the one he loved, one that loved him, while the rain fell around them like a blanket.</p><p>He felt as if they were the only people in the world right now. Maybe they were, maybe the world was empty, just him and Hermione left to live, left to love.</p><p>It wouldn't have surprised him, not anymore.</p><p>"You like the rain, don't you?" Hermione finally spoke, voice croaking, full of sleep. "Is that why you went into the garden a few days ago, to feel the rain?"</p><p>Draco hummed, simply playing with a long brown curl that hung from Hermione's face.</p><p>He noticed how Hermione had spread her legs so that they were hanging over the edge of the tub, to make more room for him.</p><p>"I went into the garden because I felt so trapped in here" Draco spoke truthfully.</p><p>He didn't want to offend Hermione, or her home. Though that's how he felt and he knew Hermione understood. Hermione always understood, she understood everything.</p><p>She understood Draco better than he understood himself.</p><p>
  <em>Always be grateful for her, Draco.</em>
</p><p>Because he had to be grateful. He broke down often. He threw plates and he cried and he crumbled. He was broken. His insides were torn in half the day his mother was ripped from the cottage he lived in.</p><p>Hermione understood. Hermione held his hands while he trembled on the floor. Hermione picked up the shattered glass from the floor after he broke bowls and plates and glasses. Hermione allowed him to yell when he had to scream and shout. Hermione <em>understood</em>.</p><p>"I hadn't left the house since the day you pulled me inside. I was scared, of going into the garden, scared of being seen, but I couldn't help myself, I wanted to feel the rain on my skin and smell the air. Just for once."</p><p>Draco felt a kiss on his neck before Hermione was pulling them both from the bathtub and into the living room area. His hands were wrapped around Hermione's, like a warm blanket on a winters day. <em>comfort.</em></p><p>"What do you want to eat today?" Hermione asked, her voice still laced with sleep and with tiredness.</p><p>She opened the fridge, but there wasn't much inside. there There was no milk left and there was no more to buy at the store, because the power has gone on that side of town now too and all the milk left in the fridges had gone clumpy.</p><p>Draco feared the day the lights in her, <em>their</em>, home flickered and turned out as well.</p><p>"I don't mind." Draco shrugged, following her into the kitchen like a lost puppy, like a puppy on a leash, connected to her by the hip.</p><p>He loved that though; having someone to care for him, someone to call his own. Nobody had cared for him this way since his Mother.</p><p>"Anything is food, why don't you try and see if they have any tins of soup, maybe we could have that."</p><p>"I think I saw some tins there, last time" Hermione shot him a small smile. Draco smiled back, not anticipating the strong kiss that was pressed against his lips. The kiss was laced with determination, laced with love.</p><p>"What was that for?" Draco asked, another kiss falling against his lips. And then another, and then another.</p><p>"I just love you." Hermione stated. Draco believed her. "I love you more than I ever thought I could.</p><p>A twinge in Draco's heart tells him he had heard her say that before.</p><p>It confused him, but he didn't think on it.</p><p>"Shut up" Draco punched her side, playfully, of course, He was struggling to hide his smile, so much that his cheeks hurt. "You so cringe."</p><p>Hermione shrugged and walked towards the door to put his coat on, because the summer rain was coming down strong. Draco always felt sad when he watched Hermione walk out of the door, into the apocalypse, alone.</p><p>Draco wished he could go with her, hold her hand through the deserted streets, laugh with her, run with her. But Hermione won't let him, he himself wouldn't let him. He's too afraid, he's too broken from the memory of watching his mother being torn from him.</p><p>He promised her that one day he would go with her.</p><p>"I'll see you in a little while" Hermione said, her cheeks budding into a smile. Draco kisses her, caressing her back underneath her coat. "I'll get us some nice food, wait for me, until then."</p><p>Draco nodded, sliding his body free from his girlfriends hold.</p><p>
  <em>Is she your Girlfriend, Draco? No, She's your soulmate.</em>
</p><p>"Okay, stay safe" Draco told her, he meant it. of course he did. The country seemed deserted, but he can't trust anyone, or anything. He still had a pit of fear in his stomach every time Hermione left, anxiously waiting for her return. "I love you, Mione."</p><p>"Always." Hermione picked up the plastic bag that sat by the door, before descending into the rain.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. November 11th, 2003.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <em>November 11th, 2003.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>It rained for months.</p><p>The rain flooded the garden and it sept through the windows of the house, creating damp spaces on the floor and on the walls.</p><p>The heating no longer worked.</p><p>Draco was waiting for that to happen, for the supplier to run out. It was only a matter of time before the water completely runs dry and the power will go too.</p><p>He hoped that day would not be too soon.</p><p>It was gloomy, too.</p><p>Not only in regards to the weather, but in regards to <em>them</em>.</p><p>Draco could sense the iciness from Hermione as soon as they woke up. The usual hand trickling through his hair curled up against her own chest.</p><p>Empty, distant.</p><p>It was normally Draco that crumbled. It was normally Draco who woke up crying, who yelled, who crashed into venom and acid. Not Hermione.</p><p>
  <em>She's giving up, Draco.</em>
</p><p>She didn't greet Draco with a morning kiss. She didn't tell him she loved him the moment she woke up, instead she peeled herself from the cold of the bathtub and silently walked into the kitchen.</p><p>Draco could hear the cupboards slam, tight with anger. He could hear the sob escape from Hermione's throat and her feet pattering around the house desperately but with no destination.</p><p>He wanted to comfort her, but everytime he stepped close, she stepped away.</p><p>She hid her face. Hermione cried. Hermione didn't listen.</p><p>Only when the sun began to set, Hermione seemed somewhat normal. Her body still tense with gloom and her eyebrows furrowed, but she had stopped crying—For now.</p><p>She didn't sit near Draco on the couch like usual, she didn't run her hand between Draco's thighs like she always did. But he speaks, for the first time that day, cold and low. Cold and sad.</p><p>"What are we going to do?"</p><p>Draco let his eyes lift to her. He raised an eyebrow unconsciously and shuffled closer towards her on the couch.</p><p>"About what?"</p><p>Hermione scoffed.</p><p>Rude, Draco thought. Hermione was never rude. But today she was rude. Today she was abnormal.</p><p>Today, the apocalypse was taking a toll on her.</p><p>"This!" Hermione threw her hands up into the air. Her crumpled features were being lit from one side from the damp window, the shadows of rain casting a grey glow on her face, illuminating it in sorrow. "This is painful Draco, everyday sucks because we are living for nothing."</p><p>It was Draco's time to scoff now. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.</p><p>Hermione, who had always the positive one. Hermione, who saved his life. Hermione, his love, was giving up, thinking negatively and angrily.</p><p>
  <em>She is giving up. Save her, Draco.</em>
</p><p>"What had gotten into you, today, Hermione?" Draco was careful with his tone and words. He was careful with his body language, but the soft hand he tried to set onto Hermione's fist was rejected, pushed away into the plush of the couch. "We <em>are</em> living for something, Her-"</p><p>"What's gotten into <em>me</em>? I don't know. I don't know, Draco. Maybe it's the constant reminder of my dead family and friends—My mothers shoes sitting in the hallway, or the cranberry body wash I found under the sink before I went to bed." Hermione choked out a sob, it ripped through her chest and caused her to fold over on herself. "Maybe it's the fact i can't remember anything, I can't remember my friends, i can't remember if i ever loved before you, i constantly feel like a fucking idiot because i don't know what happened before now."</p><p>Her eyes fall to the tattoo on her skin. "I can't even remember what these fucking letters stand for."</p><p>"Mione, calm down—" Draco tried to be soft, because the image of her breaking down before him was so painful.</p><p>The image of his beautiful girl folding before him like a paper plane, wrecked, destroyed, was too painful to uphold. "There is a lot to live for, you always told me, that we have to strive for the future."</p><p>"There is no future here, anymore" Hermione's voice was so small it was almost as if she didn't want to believe her own words. Or maybe she didn't want to hurt Draco, but it was too late now.</p><p>Her words had already stung into Draco's chest like fire, burning his heart.</p><p>"There is nothing to live for." Hermione repeated, her bloodshot eyes heading to stare at her folded hands in her lap.</p><p>"We have each other to live for—" Draco felt his eyebrows meeting in the middle of his forehead. "We have our love to live for."</p><p>"You don't love me."</p><p>That was a slap in his face. That was another burn in his chest.</p><p>It was a sick lie. A lie. A sick lie. A lie he couldn't believe had even left the lips of the other. He felt someone broken and betrayed because he loved Hermione more than he had ever loved anything he knew.</p><p>And Draco wanted to cry. He wanted to cry because Hermione is all he had. Hermione is all he knew anymore.</p><p>He loved Hermione more than he loved the snow or the rain. He loved Hermione more than he loved coffee on a monday morning, he loved Hermione more than he loved sitting in his cottage dining room reading a dusty book.</p><p>He loved Hermione more than he loved the scent of Vanilla.</p><p>And it stung because he thought Hermione knew that.</p><p>"Hermione, that's ridiculous." Draco sounded angrier than he expected himself to. His words laced with sorrow and rage. "How <em>dare</em> you even say something like that? of course I love you?"</p><p>"You love me because I'm all you have!" Hermione spat back, her words slick with venom and anger. Draco had never seen her like this. "You think you love me because there's nothing else to love, Draco, don't you understand?"</p><p>"Do I understand? Do you understand how much that hurts me?" It only took a second before Draco to start shouting, his voice loud, <em>too</em> loud. "You're my best friend, my soulmate, my <em>rock</em>, how dare you say that my love isn't real?"</p><p>"It isn't real Draco, you think it's real because it's all you've known for the past eight months, nine, a year, however long it's been." She was shouting too. It was like a match, a match that neither would win. "You think you love me because I saved you from death, when all I did was lock you up in his house to wither away into dust!"</p><p>Although he was angry, he understood. Because Hermione believed that she had done nothing but bring Draco into a desolate life with no positive end. Even if she had, Draco didn't care. He wouldn't care, as long as he met his end with Hermione at his side.</p><p>"So you don't love me?" Draco asked.</p><p>For a split second, any rage is covered with a small sob.</p><p>"I love you Draco, you fucking idiot! It sucks because I know the love you have for me is not the same!"</p><p>Draco wanted to scream until his throat dries up.</p><p>Instead he stumbled backwards until his back hit the cold of the wall.</p><p>"Fuck you, Hermione."</p><p>"Charming, you know I'm right, you know you don't love me the same way I love you. your love is out of <em>guilt</em>." Hermione walked towards Draco against the wall, until her chest was almost touching his.</p><p>But Draco felt nothing from the closeness, nothing to keep him warm. He felt anger. Only anger, laced with pity.</p><p>"I love you more than the sun loves the moon, you cunt." Draco fires back. He could feel his cheeks go red with sadness.</p><p>She's defeated. Less than ten minutes of shouting and a she's defeated. Draco wants her to feel guilty, he wanted her to feel bad for how she made him feel, but he doesn't say anything. Draco watched as she crossed the living room and slide on a pair of shoes.</p><p>They sat next to a pair of male boots that were covered in dust. He knew Hermione had forgotten who they belonged to.</p><p>They were Draco's size.</p><p>He watched as Hermione unlocked the front door, he watched as she distends into the rain, without a jacket or a hood. He watched as Hermione ignored his voice, ignored his begging for her to come back inside and she disappeared, into the emptiness, into the apocalypse.</p><p>He knew she would come back.</p><p>While he waited. He took a bath. He had not taken a bath in what felt like years. Baths were too intimate, too lonely. They made him think too much. The steam fell into his ears and flooded him with memories he did not want to remember. He usually opted for a quick shower, they were easier, less thoughtful and sorrowful.</p><p>But today he took a bath.</p><p>He washed the anger from his body with a maroon flannel. He scrubbed his skin so hard it nearly went red raw.</p><p>When he washes his feet, he discovered a tattoo on the sole of his foot he did not remember getting.</p><p>Letters. Small dainty letters in cursive writing.</p><p>
  <em>NTH.</em>
</p><p>They reminded him of the tattoo on Hermione's thumb.</p><p>He did not know what they stood for. But he could only assume it was the grief that made him forget, just like everything else.</p><p>—</p><p>Hermione did not return until it's after dark. It worried Draco in every way possible. He had almost pulled on his shoes to go and find her—but she returned when his hand wrapped around the doorknob.</p><p>"Hermione, you're such an idiot." Draco breathed, as his eyes are met with the image of Hermione, shivering into the wet of her T-shirt. Her hair was stuck to her forehead with rain, her fingers trembling at her side.</p><p>"I know you love me" Hermione said, as she wrapped her arms around his waist. "I know you love me with your entire heart."</p><p>Draco didn't care that the rainwater seeped onto his skin.</p><p>"Good."</p><p>"I had a dream, a dream about my parents, my friends, you." Hermione gulped. "We went to dinner, with a boy called Harry. It seemed like I knew him. He wore round glasses."</p><p>Hermione's eyes fell to the dusty round glasses on the countertop.</p><p>Draco didn't know how to respond. Hermione spoke for him.</p><p>"It wasn't a dream. It was a memory. The government started this apocalypse for a reason—we just cannot remember." She continued. Her head still buried into her neck.</p><p>"Then, we will live to figure it out."</p><p>Hermione nodded. Her hair tickled Draco's chin.</p><p>"I guess this is all I have now"</p><p>"what?" He asked as she pulled herself to grip the sides of his face in her cold hands. She leaned her forehead against his.</p><p>"The apocalypse and you."</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. January 3rd, 2004.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <em>January 3rd, 2004.</em>
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</p><p>The pair of scissors that brushed the skin on his neck tickled Draco to the point he couldn't sit still.</p><p>"If you keep moving then I'll end up cutting your ear off." Hermione huffed playfully, using her spare hand to hold Draco still on the kitchen stool.</p><p>"Why do I have to have short hair, anyway?" Draco asked, giggling when strands of hair fell against his back, causing Hermione to slap the back of his neck. "No one sees me but you!"</p><p>"Because, it looks pretty, do you wanna have hair down to your ankles?" Hermione spun the stool so Draco was facing her. Draco couldn't help the rush of pink that rises to his cheeks. He felt like a schoolboy around her.</p><p>He wondered if he had a girlfriend as a teen, but part of him felt like Hermione was his first love. In more than one way.</p><p>Hermione was slowly cutting the front of Draco's hair, warm blonde falling into his lap. Over the past few years, it had begun to warm. Not so much icy white, while it was still light blonde it was more rustic. Friendly looking.</p><p>"Does it look awful?"</p><p>Hermione rolled her eyes and leaned to press a small kiss on Draco's head.</p><p>It was little gestures like that, that made it worth still being alive.</p><p>"No you cockroach, short or long, it would still look nice."</p><p>Draco tried to reply, but his words were cut short by the sound of a car on the street, something that sounded foreign, something that hadn't been heard in months, nearly a year. A scream, a loud blood-curdling scream, echoed through the house.</p><p>
  <em>Keep her safe, Draco.</em>
</p><p>"Quickly." Draco grabbed Hermione's wrists, throwing the scissors onto the kitchen counter next to the dusty glasses.</p><p>"Why is there a car?" Hermione whispered as they lock the door and slide into the safety of the bathtub.</p><p>"We will be fine, Mione." He assured her, kissing her forehead.</p><p>He felt her heart pounding against his chest.</p><p>He's sure she felt the same.</p><p>"I thought we were all alone by now." She curled herself up onto Draco's chest, a tear falling down to soak his white T-shirt.</p><p>"We are alone, okay? They won't find us here"</p><p>And luckily, they didn't.</p><p>They spent a few hours, cuddling inside of the bathtub, talking and distracting each other from what had happened. They don't hear another sound outside, after the car and scream.</p><p>Nothing. not even the sound of rain.</p><p>Not even the sound of the trees in the wind. So that comforted them and they found themselves sitting on the living room couch, in a tumble of limbs the morning after.</p><p>Draco's stomach rumbled while Hermione's tongue is exploring his mouth. She was spotted between his legs, her body pressed against his like a magnet.</p><p>She groaned into his mouth as he tugged on her bottom lip, so hard it almost drew blood.</p><p>"Fuck, Draco—please."</p><p>"Mmm?" He raised an eyebrow, dropping his hands down to grope her underneath her shirt.</p><p>He doesn't think about his hunger until she lied naked on-top of him struggling for breath.</p><p>He had fucked her into serenity.</p><p>But now he was hungry.</p><p>"Are you super hungry?" Hermione asked, letting her head fall onto Draco's lap. He hummed and let his fingers glide over the skin on Hermione's forehead.</p><p>It was warm and damp. It was tainted with his touch.</p><p>"I can go and get some food if you want."</p><p>"Stay here with me." Draco pouted, tangling his fingers within Hermione's brown locks. Warm. Hermione was warm. Hermione was always warm. "Let's dance around the house until we can't feel our feet anymore!"</p><p>"I wish." Hermione laughed. "But—you can't starve all day, I'll go and get us some food."</p><p>"No." Draco caught her arm before she could stand and breathes into her mouth, kissing her once more. He can't get enough, today. Hermione tasted like <em>love</em>, today. More so than usual. "Let's stay here for a while, please."</p><p>Hermione complied, for a while. Draco kissed her all over until they couldn't breathe, until his lips are red raw.</p><p>He kissed her until he can't kiss no more, until he forced Hermione onto her feet to dance around the house instead.</p><p>They dance until Draco's feet grew brittle. Until his heart filled with warmth and shelter when Hermione leaned up to kiss his face.</p><p>
  <em>She loves you, Draco.</em>
</p><p>Though they couldn't dance forever, because Draco's stomach rumbled so loudly over the music that Hermione forced him to stop, placed two hands on his shoulders and licked his nose before speaking.</p><p>"I have to get some food before the sun sets." Hermione told him, his hands squeezing the skin on his shoulders. "I won't be long. I never am."</p><p>"I can live without food for today." Draco whined, stomping his bare feet on the wooden floor beneath him.</p><p>"You can't. You are wasting away" Hermione laughed slightly, poking Draco's ribs with her finger. </p><p>Draco stared down at her hand.</p><p>He never noticed there was the initial D on tattooed on the inside of her pointer finger in the same font that was on his foot.</p><p>"Then, shall I come with you today?"</p><p>Hermione shook her head.</p><p>"Not today, wash up and i'll be back in a little while."</p><p>He watched Hermione as crossed to the door, sliding on her usual pair of trainers. She took the plastic bag, and wrapped it around her wrist.</p><p>"I love you, Draco, see you in a little while."</p><p>Draco leaned down to kiss her before she opened the door.</p><p>It had begun to rain.</p><p>"I'll see you in a little while, Granger."</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0013"><h2>13. June 5th, 2004.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
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    <em>June 5th, 2004.</em>
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</p><p>
  <em>I'll see you.</em>
</p><p>It took a while, a long while, for those words to stop replaying inside of Draco's head.</p><p>
  <em>I'll see you, </em>
  <br/>
  <em>I'll see you, </em>
  <br/>
  <em>I'll see you.</em>
</p><p>Because he doesn't.</p><p>Draco didn't know how long he waited, sitting by the door, waiting for Hermione to come home.</p><p>A week, a month, two months. He ended up loosing count. He lost count the first time he crumpled to the ground with his head in his hands, his chest burning with grief.</p><p>He believed Hermione would come back, eventually.</p><p>He believed Hermione would come back, safe, to <em>him</em>.</p><p>But when he crossed the kitchen and saw the scissors Hermione dropped onto the counter the day she left, building with a similar layer of dust to the glasses that sit beside it—he knew she was gone.</p><p>Draco wanted to believe she had been rescued, taken far away until she can rescue him too.</p><p>Maybe she had remembered her life in the before. Maybe the memories had come back. Maybe she realised there was more out there for her happiness than Draco and the bathtub.</p><p>But Draco knew she was most likely taken to the Graveyard.</p><p>As Draco sat by the front door, his eyes streaming, he pulled his feet up onto his lap and traced the letter on his on his foot. <em>H</em>.</p><p>
  <em>She has loved you forever, Draco. </em>
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  <em>Even in the before. </em>
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  <em>When magic flooded your veins. </em>
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  <em>When you were cruel. When you were venomous. </em>
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  <em>She always loved you, even if you cannot remember it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—</em>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">Thank you for reading. </span>
  </b>
  <br/>
  <b>
    <span class="u">Reminder to follow me on tiktok; my username is @sixth_senses</span>
  </b>
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  <b>
    <span class="u">Don't forget to check out my other story — Anchor and Rose.</span>
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